


here in the end is home

by mischief7manager



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Families of Choice, Gen, Mythology References, Siblings, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To you are owed<br/>Ourselves and all creation: a brief while<br/>We linger; then we hasten, late or soon,<br/>To one abode; here one road leads us all;<br/>Here in the end is home; over humankind<br/>Your kingdom keeps the longest sovereignty.”<br/>-Orpheus to Pluto, ruler of the underworld, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, book 10</p>
<p>When one of Vox Machina's own dies in combat, the others find their will and strength tested in their frantic quest to save their fallen comrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came from a very angsty chat with curriebelle, as well as my continued desire for more platonic reworkings of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. 
> 
> I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm really not. Spoilers through episode 44.

"To you are owed 

Ourselves and all creation: a brief while

We linger; then we hasten, late or soon, 

To one abode; here one road leads us all; 

Here in the end is home; over humankind 

Your kingdom keeps the longest sovereignty.”

-Orpheus to Hades, Ovid’s  _ Metamorphoses _ , book 10

 

* * *

 

     In the end, it’s shockingly ordinary, the manner in which Vax’ildan of Vox Machina dies. 

     They’re cleaning up a band of orcs that have been causing trouble outside of Vasselheim when it happens. Kashaw, Zahra and Kima have settled into Whitestone, and the main party had been on its way to the Fire Ashari when the bastions had asked for their help taking care of the orcs that had been waylaying travelers. They’d accepted, of course. How dangerous could a few orcs be?

     There’s no protective booby trap or treachery demon’s wrath this time. No climactic confrontation or dramatic duel. Just a blow Vax doesn't dodge in time. His enemy strikes true, and the rogue falls. Almost too easy, really.

     Across the battlefield, Vex has just let an arrow fly when a wave of dark dread sweeps over her. Cold sweat beads on her neck as she drops her attacking stance to scan the fight for her brother. Her mind whirls, recalling the last time she felt this ice creeping through her veins: outside Uriel’s palace when Vax was at the mercy of the Briarwoods. She and Vax have never had that kind of twin connection, not really, the kind where they feel each other’s pain or know when the other is in trouble. For it to be happening now…

     Her eyes lock onto a single orc, and time slows to a crawl as she watches him bring a blade down onto the unmoving form of her unconscious brother.

     Vex’ahlia screams.

     An arrow slams into the orc’s chest, then another, and another. Blood spurts from his mouth as he falls, twitching weakly, but Vex has already forgotten him. He is nothing to her, the battle is nothing, there is nothing and no one in the world but her brother, lying motionless on his back on the cold earthen ground. Dimly she registers that the other orcs are dead, the battle is over, Vox Machina is victorious once more, but all she sees is the blood pooling under her brother’s torso. It takes her an eternity to reach him, what feels like three lifetimes, but finally,  _ finally _ , she does. She lands hard on her knees next to him, arcane energy already gathering at her fingers, and plants her hands on his blood-soaked chest, pouring all her strength into the Cure Wounds casting.

     Nothing happens.

     Vex pulls her hands away. The magic dissipates, but Vax is still lying there. The blood is flowing slower now, but the wounds are still open. She tries again, the Cure Wounds taking the last of her spellcasting as she forces the healing magic into her brother’s body. But the light fades, and Vax doesn’t move. 

     “ _ Pike! _ ” The cry forces itself from her chest, and Vex spins on her knees, searching desperately for the healer. The rest of the party has gathered around them. Percy, white-faced and blood-splattered, has an arm around Keyleth, who looks like she can barely hold herself up, a hand over her mouth. Scanlan’s normally jovial countenance is grim. Grog is breathing hard, coming down from his rage, his brow furrowed as though he can’t understand why Vax isn’t just getting up already. And Pike--

     Pike is standing in front of her. There are tears in her eyes. She is very, very still.

     “Pike, come on!” Vex’s voice cracks, the words tearing at her throat as they’re spoken. “Do something, heal him! Bring him back!”

     “I can’t.” Pike speaks softly, but each word rips through Vex like a knolling bell. “I can’t heal him. And I can’t… I don’t have the spell. Vex… he’s gone.” 

     A gasp, a sob. Keyleth, Vex thinks. Someone should make sure she’s alright, for when Vax wakes up. He hates when Keyleth cries. “What do you mean, gone?” she says. “He’s right here, he needs healing.” Why are they just standing there? Can’t they see what’s happened? Why won’t Pike help him?

     “Vex.” Scanlan, this time, and she turns to him, a biting retort already on her tongue. It’s halted by the expression on his face. There is no twinkle in his eye, no quirk at the corner of his mouth. Vex can count on one hand the times she’s seen Scanlan take something seriously, without adding a twist of irony or humor. There is no humor in him now. “Vax is dead,” he says. “I’m sorry. Your brother’s dead.”

     Vex stares at him. Looks back at her brother. The blood has stopped flowing from his wounds now. Trinket, who has been quiet so far, sensing her distress, begins nosing gently at Vax’s shoulder, whuffing softly when he gets no response. 

     Dead.

     Her first thought, stupidly, is that Scanlan is lying. He lies all the time, his sense of humor is terrible, this is one of his idiotic jokes and in a moment Vax will leap up and she’ll hit him for worrying her and it’ll be like a thousand shitty pranks he’s pulled before. But she can hear, as though from an enormous distance, the sounds of sobs behind her. Keyleth and Pike both are crying now, and she realizes Scanlan would never do something that would make Pike cry. And Vax still isn’t moving. Vax, who refused to let her out of his sight since the dragons came, who’s always been at her side, and she knows,  _ knows _ like she knows her own name, that he would never do something this cruel for a laugh. 

     Dead.

     The world goes quiet. Vex stays there for an unknowable amount of time, feeling the blood begin to soak into her clothes where she kneels next to Vax’s broken body.  _ That’ll take forever to clean _ , she thinks absently. She reaches out, when did her hands start shaking, and brushes a piece of hair back from Vax’s face. Dully, the idea comes to her that she should do something. There are things you’re supposed to do, when someone… But she doesn’t know what to do. By the time they got to Byroden and found out what happened to their mother, her body was long buried. They visited her grave before they moved on from the village. Vax left flowers for her. 

     What is she supposed to do?

     Movement. She hopes for one wild moment-- but no. Vax’s shoulders are moving because Grog has knelt next to him and is beginning to pick him up, and Vex is suddenly, blindingly furious. 

     “ _ Don’t touch him! _ ” Vex shoves Grog away, actually knocking him back. Other voices are shouting now, several of them at her, but all she can see is Grog raising hands coated in Vax’s blood. How dare he, how dare any of them, Vax is her brother,  _ hers _ and no one else’s. They don’t get to touch him, they don’t get to move him. This grief is hers, this pain is hers, she kneels bent over his body with the weight of it. There are hands on her now, trying to pull her away, and she thrashs in their grip. “No! Don’t touch him, don’t you  _ fucking _ touch him!” She screams, and screams, and screams, until a voice pierces through the agony.

     “Vex!” That’s Percy. One of his arms is around her waist, pulling her back from the body. His other hand is twined with hers. “Vex, listen to me, we can still save him!”

     Vex snaps around to look at him. Percy meets her gaze, wild-eyed. There are tear tracks trailing out from underneath his glasses, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed them. She’s smearing blood all over his coat. She stares. “Save him?”

     Percy grips her hand tighter. “It’s too late to revive him, and we don’t have the spell for it, but. If we get him to a temple, we can get the help of other clerics. They can bring him back like they did for Pike, but we have to hurry.” Vex looks back to Grog, still kneeling across from her. He is still, more still than she had thought he could be, and he’s made no move towards the body. As though he’s waiting for permission.

     Slowly, Vex nods. Grog swallows hard, then, almost comically gentle, scoops Vax into his arms. Vax looks so small in comparison, and Vex chokes on the bitter thought that it should have been Grog taking the blow. It’s Grog’s job to take blows so the others don’t have to, it should have been him on the end of that blade. She can see in Grog’s face that he’s thinking it, too. 

     “We take him to the Platinum Sanctuary.” That’s Keyleth, and although tears are still streaming down her face, her voice is iron. “They’re the center of divine energy in Vasselheim.” She’s staring at Vax’s body, and Vex can see her right hand clenching and unclenching. The hand she used to burn the brand from Vax’s shoulder. “They’ll know what to do.” 

     Vex looks at each of her friends in turn. She can see in their faces the same consuming thought, clung to like a drowning man to driftwood: this will work. This has to work. There is no other possible option.

     Vex breathes deep. “Let’s go,” she says. “We don’t have much time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1) I swear to god, I started writing this a week before episode 44 happened. And then it happened and I was like, "you know what would make this situation even better? More angst." 
> 
> 2) On a related note: There will be a happy ending. No matter how dark things get, it will all work out alright. I wouldn't do y'all like that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox Machina races to the Platinum Sanctuary to get Highkeeper Vord's divine assistance in reviving Vax from the dead, but resurrection proves more complicated, and more dangerous, than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blatantly making up the majority of the actual magic in this sequence from scratch. Spoilers through episode 44.

“Doubt comes in

With tricky fingers

Doubt comes in

With fickle tongues

Doubt comes in and my heart falters

And forgets the songs it sung

Where are you? Where are you now?”

-Orpheus and the Fates, “Doubt Comes In” by Anais Mitchell

 

* * *

 

 

     The journey from the outskirts of the city to the Platinum Sanctuary is the longest walk of Vex’s life. Each second that passes is another second in which they aren’t helping Vax. Vex finds herself longing desperately for the flying carpet, and internally cursing her brother for losing it, for putting them in this situation. She clings to the anger as they make their way through Vasselheim, letting it fuel her steps. She focuses on the anger, and not on his head lolling against Grog’s chest, face pale and motionless. As long as she’s angry with Vax, she’s in familiar territory. As long as she’s angry, she’s  _ doing  _ something. The rest of the party is silent, for the most part, focused on the goal. Percy speaks briefly to some bastions that try to stop them, his usual easy charm absent. In its place is cold insistence: they are members of the Slayer’s Take, in the city on a matter of life and death, and any who wish to stop them are strongly encouraged to reconsider.

     They aren’t bothered after that.

     They arrive at the Platinum Sanctuary. Vex thinks, in the part of her mind that is still capable of rational thought, that they must look terrible; many of them still injured from the battle, most of them covered in blood, grim-faced and one of their number carrying a corpse. The guards at the entrance take defensive stances on seeing them, and one calls out. “Hold there! State your business!”

     Scanlan steps forward, hands spread in a calming gesture. “We are Vox Machina. We seek immediate audience with Highbearer Vord, to request his help a matter of deepest urgency.”

     The guard’s eyes narrow. “And what, pray tell, is the nature of this matter?”

     Vex steps forward. The guard’s eyes widen as he takes in her blood-stained clothes and unyielding expression. She holds his gaze steadily. “Resurrection,” she says. 

     The guards exchange a look. The one who questioned them ducks inside the doors for a minute, two, three. The remaining guard shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting from person to person, to Vax’s limp body and then away. None of them say anything. There are still tears streaming down Pike’s face, Vex notices, although Pike herself seems unaware. Following Vex’s gaze, Scanlan reaches up and brushes a thumb across Pike’s cheek. Pike flinches, jolted out of her thoughts, and sends him a watery smile of reassurance. That’s Pike: always trying to make others feel better, Vex thinks, even when she’s being torn apart inside. 

     The guard returns and motions to his partner to open the doors. “The Highbearer has granted you audience,” he says, and the doors swing wide to allow them through. Scanlan gives him a small bow, but Vex doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. She strides through into the center of the temple, Keyleth at her right shoulder and Percy at her left, and calls out into the echoing empty chamber.

     “Highbearer Vord! We need your help!” Her voice shatters the devout silence, and she can see the clerics turning to stare at her disapprovingly. She ignores them. “Highbearer Vord! We-”

     “Yes, yes, I know why you have come.” 

     They turn as one to meet the approaching Highbearer. If he is startled by their current condition, he doesn’t show it. He moves to stand in front of Grog, eyes sweeping over the motionless Vax still cradled in his arms. “I presume this is why you seek my assistance.”

     “Can you bring him back?” Keyleth’s voice is soft, as if she’s afraid to hear the answer, but the question hangs heavy in the quiet chamber. For a moment, Vex forgets to breathe, waiting for his response.

     Vord meets each of their gaze in turn, searching and measuring them all, his stern countenance revealing nothing. Finally, he turns to Vex. “You ask for no small favor,” he says, his voice heavy with solemnity. “This type of divine magic is not to be undertaken lightly. The potential consequences of failure are-”

     “I don’t care.” Vex can feel the shock from the surrounding clerics at her disrespect, but it rolls off her like a morning fog. Distantly she can tell that her hands are shaking, but she ignores that too. “I don’t care,” she says again, and this may be the most important thing she’s ever said in her life, and she’ll be damned if she stays quiet for some stuffy clerics’ propriety. “Whatever you need us to do, we’ll do it. I don’t care about the risks.” She feels Keyleth take her hand, feels Percy take the other. She holds them tight, lets their strength carry her next words. “We’ll do whatever it takes to save him.” She squeezes her friends’ hands. “He’d do the same for any of us.” 

     Vord looks at her. She looks back, letting him see everything she has carried up this godsdamned mountain to this fucking temple, all the anger, the rage, the screaming agony that has made its home under her ribs, the pain she’s carried since she found her mother’s house in smoldering ruins and swore she would never let that happen to anyone she loved ever again. If this is what it takes to save her brother, Vex will cut herself open here in this place of holy worship. If it’s a sacrifice he wants, he’ll get it. 

     After a long moment, Vord nods. “Very well. I will prepare the ritual. But I ask you this-” He looks around the group again. “If you truly wish this to be done, I will do it. But you should consider: are you asking this for his sake-” he nods at Vax’s broken body- “or for your own?”

     With that, he snaps his fingers and two clerics rush forward. He speaks with them quietly for a moment, and they nod and rush off, presumably to gather supplies. Vord turns back to the group. “Come with me,” he says. 

     “Wait.” Vex’s movement forward is halted by Percy, still holding her hand, pulling back. He’s looking at the Highbearer, a calculating expression on his face. “Why are you helping us?” 

     “Percy…” Keyleth says, a warning in her voice, but Percy shakes his head.

     “You have no reason to do this for us. What’s in it for you?” His eyes are steely behind his glasses. Of course it would be Percy to ask this, Vex thinks. He’s not saying no to the deal, he’d never say no to this, not when it could save his friend, but. He’d still like to know the terms. He’s seen and done too much to expect this kind of power to come without a price. 

     For the first time since they met him, Vord smiles. A small, reluctant smile, but a smile nonetheless. “My connection with the Platinum Dragon grants me many gifts, young man. Including, very rarely, glimpses into things that have yet to come to pass. More than this, I cannot say, but…” His eyes fall to Vax again, and his expression sobers. “There is much turmoil that yet awaits Vox Machina, struggle that will require all of your strength.” He walks forward, and places a hand on Vax’s forehead.  “I do not believe it is your friend’s destiny to fall before the coming battle is complete.” He stays there for a moment, letting his words sink in, before withdrawing his hand. “Come,” he beckons, “we have much to do and little time.” 

     With that, he turns and strides off down a side hallway. After exchanging wary looks, Vox Machina, with no other choice, follows.

     Vord leads them to an empty chamber, dominated by a raised altar in the center. “Put him there,” he says, motioning with a hand as he looks over the materials assembled by the clerics. After looking to Vex and receiving a nod, Grog slowly lays Vax out on the stone. He hesitates for a moment, enormous hands hovering uncertainly over the body, before straightening Vax’s arms to rest at his sides. He steps back then, looking to Vex once more as if for reassurance that he didn’t mess it up. Vex just nods and looks back to Vord. She can’t offer Grog assurance any more than she can make herself release her grip on Percy and Keyleth’s hands. She can’t do anything except watch the Highbearer and wait for instruction. 

     After a few more moments, Vord turns back to the group. “You,” he beckons to Vex. Reluctantly she lets go of her friends and steps forward. “Here,” he says, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her to stand in front of Vax’s head, looking down at the altar. She takes a shaking breath. Her brother is so pale, which only makes the blood stand out all the brighter against his skin. Vex forces herself not to look away. She needs to remember this. Remember what it is she’s fighting against, and face it head on. Gods all know, that’s what Vax would do.

     In turn, Vord arranges Keyleth, Scanlan, Grog, Pike, and Percy in a clockwise circle around the altar. The Highbearer himself takes position behind Vex, looking over all of them for a final time. “This ritual will require strength from all of you,” he says. “Your connections to your friend are what will anchor his soul to his body and allow me to restore him to life. Once we begin, you must do exactly as I say, do you understand?”

     “We understand.” Pike speaks for all of them, her voice soft but full of conviction.

     The Highbearer nods slowly. “Very well. Let us begin.” 

     Vex hears the soft whisper of cloth as he moves, then the faint hiss of a striking match. Vord speaks, his voice deeper and more solemn ringing in the enclosed space. Vex can’t understand the words, but she thinks from Percy’s expression of dawning understanding they might be Celestial. He chants for several long minutes, at times circling the group carrying candles that leave the air thick with scented smoke, at times standing at the head of the altar and reciting what Vex can sense is an ancient incantation. She can feel the power building in the chamber, until the pressure of it is almost enough to drive her to her knees. Only the fear of interrupting the ritual keeps her standing. 

     After what seems like hours, the chanting halts. Vord speaks again in Common. “When I call upon you,” he says, his sombre tone leaving no room for argument, “step forward to the altar. You must each lay hands on him, and call him back to the mortal realm.” Vord pauses, and Vex glances over her shoulder to see him pass a hand across his face. He’s tired, she realizes. This magic is draining him. 

     Vord catches her eye and straightens. “Keyleth,” he says. “Step forward.” 

     Slowly, Keyleth moves next to the altar and rests shaking hands on Vax’s shoulder. She takes a shuddering breath, and looks back to Vord. “What do I say?” she asks, her voice thick with unshed tears. “How can I- What can I say?” Her fingers dig into Vax’s cloak, as if to anchor herself. 

     Vord’s voice is gentle. “Call him back, Keyleth. Remind him of who he is, what keeps him in the mortal realm.” 

     Keyleth nods. She takes another breath, eyes falling to Vax’s motionless face. “Vax,” she says. “It’s me. I don’t-” She pauses, huffs in frustration. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” She ducks her head, and Vex can see the tears streaming down her cheeks once more. “All I know is-” Keyleth reaches out and brushes a strand of dark hair back from Vax’s face. “I told you once that we couldn’t lose you, and I meant it. I can’t lose you. It would have been bad enough then, when I didn’t really know what I’d be losing, but now…” She swallows hard. “Now I know.” She leans over and presses a kiss to Vax’s forehead. Her next words are so quiet Vex thinks she might be the only one to hear them. “Come back to me,” Keyleth whispers. Then she straightens and steps back into the circle.

     “Scanlan,” Vord calls, and the gnome steps forward. His head barely reaches above the altar, and Vex is struck by the bizarre urge to laugh. It’s not even funny, really, but she feels hysterical giggles bubbling up in her chest. She bites her lip, holding them down. 

     Scanlan reaches up and rests a hand on Vax’s wrist. “Well,” he says. “Here we are. And you didn't even get yourself killed running off to do some stupid shit on your own this time.” His normal humor falls flat, and he sighs. “I’m not good at this kind of speaking, I guess. Emotional sincerity hasn’t served me well in the past, but…” He tightens his grip on Vax’s wrist. “I suppose if ever there was a time for it…” He blinks, and Vex takes in a sharp breath as she sees the tears in his eyes. “Please don't be dead, Vax. You’re a good man. Gods know, better than me. I don't know what we’ll do without you.” A final squeeze to Vax’s wrist and he steps back.

     Behind Vex, Vord must make a gesture because Grog steps forward. He lifts a hand, moves it over Vax’s foot. Moves it over his other foot. Moves it back to the first foot. Before finally resting it on Vax’s shin. “Fucking figures, doesn’t it,” he says. Whether he means his awkward placement in the ritual or the situation at large, Vax isn’t sure. Judging by the uncharacteristic solemnity in Grog’s face, neither is he. He runs his other hand over his head. “It’s not right,” he says. “You getting taken down by some random piece of shit. I was the one who was supposed to…” He trails off, staring at Vax like he’s never seen a dead body before, like he’s still not sure this is really happening. “I still owe you for the beard thing,” he says finally. “So you better not stay dead and lose me my chance to collect.” He pats Vax’s leg, still disarmingly gentle, and he steps back.

     Pike steps forward. She reaches up and slips her hand into Vax’s on the altar. “Hey, Vax,” she says. It would look for all the world like any other conversation between friends were it not for the tear tracks on her face, and the cold stillness of the form on the altar. “It’s me, Pike. I’m sorry I couldn’t revive you, I didn’t-” She bites her lip. “I was overconfident, I guess. Thinking I wouldn’t need that spell when we were on such a simple mission. I’m sorry.” She swallows, then continues. “I just want you to know that we’re here for you, okay? I remember-” She falters, and Vex can see her face cloud with memory before she shakes her head. “I remember not wanting to be alone, when I was… Where you are now. So just know that we’re here, alright? We’re with you.” Rising onto her toes, Pike pulls Vax’s hand to her and drops a kiss onto the back of it, right on the holy symbol of Sarenrae sewn into his glove. “We’re watching over you,” she says, and she steps back. 

     Percy steps forward. He places a hand on Vax’s shoulder and is quiet for a long moment. He opens his mouth several times as if to speak, but each time he shuts it again, his expression one of mounting frustration. He’s always careful with his words, Vex knows. Percy never says anything he doesn’t mean to, and he makes sure to mean everything he says before he says it. She’s seen him truly speechless only a handful of times, and the weight of it settles heavy in her chest. Finally, Percy speaks. “We are almost like family, you and I,” he says. “Your words. I have lost-” He pauses, swallows. “Quite a lot of family, in my time. I would very much like to avoid losing any more.” He chuckles humorlessly. “You would think I would have gotten used to it by now but…” He shakes his head. “Just come back, would you? Things would get frightfully dull without you around.” He nods, pulls his hand away, and he steps back.

     Vex’s turn. Slowly, legs shaking, she steps forward to stand at the head of the altar. She looks down into her brother’s blank face.

     “I can’t,” she says.

     “Vex…” Percy, of course, and if she looked at him she knows she’d see understanding in his face, but she doesn’t want his understanding, she wants her brother to not be fucking dead.

     “I can’t do this,” she says. She rests a hand on Vax’s forehead. “I’m sorry, brother,” she says, a tear landing on the back of her hand. “I can’t. I-” She’s cut off by the sob that tears itself from her throat. “I can’t stand here and say nice things and pray and hope it’ll all work out. So-” She breaks off again, this sob wracking her body. A warm weight presses itself against her side, and from the corner of her eye she sees Trinket, standing just outside the circle, nuzzling gently against her ribs. She takes a deep breath, drops her forehead to rest against her brother’s. “This better work, do you understand me, brother?” she says, and she feels a tear slide down her cheek onto Vax’s face. “This better fucking work.” She closes her eyes, and for a moment she can ignore the coldness of her brother’s skin, the iron-copper stink of blood, the heavy solemnity of this empty stone chamber, the memory of the pain on her friends’ faces. For a moment she’s a runaway teenager again, curled up in a haphazard camp in some godsforsaken forest, letting the presence of her brother lull her to sleep. 

     Vax is older than Vex by several minutes. He used to tease her about it, try to play the wiser big brother to get on her nerves. It doesn’t matter, really, and normally she doesn’t even think about it, but.

     Vax is older than Vex by several minutes. She has never drawn breath in a world that didn’t have him in it. Not until today. 

     She doesn’t know how to live alone. 

     Vex opens her eyes. Straightens. Steps back.

     “So is it done.” The Highbearer’s voice rings through the chamber. “You are called from one realm to another. Vax’ildan, return.”

     Whatever divine energy was in the room before doubles, trebles. A sharp gasp draws Vex’s attention to Pike. The gnome is holding onto her holy symbol, and Vex can see warm light spilling out from between her fingers. The energy builds, builds-

     Then stops. 

     Vax doesn’t move.

     Vex twists to look at the Highbearer. “Why isn’t it working?” she asks. 

     Sweat is beaded across Vord’s forehead, and his breathing is heavy. “I’m not sure,” he says. He raises a shaking hand to wipe his face. “Something is… resisting the ritual.”

     “Resisting?” Keyleth’s voice is incredulous. “Resisting how?”

     “I don’t know,” he says, frustration creeping in. “It  _ should _ have worked, but…”

     “Well, what do we do?” As always, Percy cuts to the heart of the matter.

     Vord sighs. “There is… an option. It will be dangerous.”

     “What is it?” Grog, of course, ready to take action. Vex turns to the Highbearer, looks him in the eye. She’s come too far to give up now.

     Vord looks to each of them. “There is a chance that I could… Send another soul after Vax’ildan’s into the afterlife. Send one of you to bring him back.” 

     “I thought we were already bringing him back.” Scanlan this time, his voice edged with rising anger. 

     “You were,” Vord says, weary. “Apparently it was not enough. Something is holding him in the next life.”

     “And you think someone could… go there and make it stop?” Pike says. “Find his soul and bring it back themselves?”

     Vord nods. “I believe so. But the risks to the person sent… Even if they were to retrieve Vax’ildan’s soul from death, there is no guarantee that their own soul would not be lost in the attempt.” 

     “I’ll do it.” All eyes turn to Vex, the words out before the Highbearer has even finished his sentence. She raises her chin. “I’ll go.”

     “Vex’ahlia.” If she thought Vord was solemn before, he is even more so now. “This will not be an easy task. I have no way of telling you what may happen once you cross over, to your body or your spirit. If something goes wrong, your soul could also be lost.”

     Vex nods. “I understand.” 

     Vord looks at her for a long moment. She looks back. If he is searching for weakness or hesitation, he’ll find none. At last he nods. “Very well. The rest of you-” He raises his hand and gestures to the group. “Behind me, away from the altar.” He sighs. “This will require an enormous expenditure of divine energy.” 

     “I can help with that.” Pike steps forward, hand still on her holy symbol. “Whatever help you need.” 

     Vord nods again. “Very well. You.” He beckons to Grog, who quickly moves to stand next to him. He nods to Vex. “Once we begin, her soul will exit her body and leave it out of her control. She will need you to support her so as not to injure herself unintentionally.” Grog nods and moves next to Vex, new purpose in his body as he has a physical task to perform.

     “Vex.” A small hand comes to rest on Vex’s shoulder and she turns to Keyleth, words already spilling from her mouth.

     “Look, Keyleth,” she says, her speech rushed in her haste to get it out before Keyleth can argue, “I don’t know what’s going on between you, but-- it has to be me, alright? It just has to be me, he’s  _ my brother _ , so whatever you’re gonna say to try and talk me into-- into switching places, or whatever, just--”

     “Vex.” She stops talking, looks at Keyleth for the first time. Her friend’s eyes are shining with tears, but there’s a small smile on his face. “I was gonna say, go get him. Go get him back for us. And tell him--” She breaks off, shakes her head, smiles ruefully. “Nevermind. I’ll tell him myself. Once I’ve kicked his ass for scaring us.”

     She meets Vex’s eyes, smiles again, and before she can think too hard on it, Vex is pulling her into a hug. “I’ll bring him back,” she says, and feels Keyleth stifle a sob against her shoulder. “I promise.” They stay there, two women drawing strength from each other, until Vex pulls away, swallowing around the lump in her throat. 

     She reaches out to Trinket, sinks a hand into the shaggy fur around his neck. “Be good while I’m gone, alright?” she says, and he presses himself against her chest, whining softly. She buries her face in his fur for a moment, breathing in his familiar musky bear smell, before straightening and stepping back. She turns to Vord, who has been standing silently, watching this unfold. “I’m ready,” she says.

     The Highbearer nods. “Very well. Stand at the head of the altar.”

     She does. She feels Grog move to stand behind her, his enormous hands lightly bracketing her waist, ready to catch her if she falls. Vord breathes deeply. “Remember,” he says, already calling magic to him, “this ritual can only be sustained for so long. If you do not return before my connection is lost, your soul will be trapped in the afterlife.” 

     Vex looks down again at her brother’s face.  _ Just hold on _ , she thinks, as Vord once again begins chanting in an unfamiliar language. The divine energy swells again, bolstered by Pike’s assistance, until the room is fairly humming with it. Vex feels it pressing at her, concentrating in the center of her chest. She has one last moment to send a prayer to Sarenrae--not even a prayer, just a feeling,  _ look after them _ \--before the world around her fades to black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D&D's fun!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Vax have a long overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not compliant with episode 45. Spoilers through episode 44.

“So be it. But there are conditions. There are rules.

There are always rules.”

-Hades to Orpheus, Sandman Special: “The Song of Orpheus”, by Neil Gaiman

 

* * *

 

     Vex opens her eyes in a world made of color.

     She’s never given much thought to what happens after death. Neither of her parents had been particularly religious, and until Vox Machina and Pike, neither was she. Gods were gods, and maybe some people found comfort in them, but Vex had always been happy to let the divine go about its business and have it let her go about hers. Perhaps some cleric of the Raven Queen might have been able to tell her what to expect upon waking in the realm of the dead, but even then, she doesn’t know that she would have believed them.

     Vex doesn’t remember anything from her own death. She remembers telling Percy to wait, the explosion of dark energy, falling back from the sarcophagus. She remembers coming to in her brother’s arms, surrounded by her friends, their faces streaked with tears. She doesn’t remember the time in between. She’s not sure if she passed on into some kind of afterlife and forgot upon returning to the world of the living, or if that was truly what awaited her after death: nothingness. She’s not sure which option frightens her more.

     The place in which she finds herself now is not nothingness. It’s the exact and total opposite of nothing. She stands in the middle of a small dirt road, bordered by a thick wooded landscape, the sounds of birds and forest life thick in the air. It should feel like any countless number of roads and woods and birds she’s seen throughout her travels, and it does, but it also feels…  _ more _ . The colors are brighter, the smells sharper, and she thinks if she were seeing this with her physical eyes it would blind her with its intensity. It doesn’t feel like a shadow realm, it feels  _ real _ , realer than the world from which she came. 

     Slowly, Vex becomes aware of a warmth in her chest. It feels similar to Pike’s healing energy, and she realizes this must be Vord’s divine magic, anchoring her to the living world. It rests beneath her breastbone, pulsing occasionally, as if to remind her of the need for haste. With the clock ticking, she begins to walk down the path before her. If pressed, she couldn’t give a reason, except that something was drawing her in that direction. Some half-formed feeling or memory, and as the trees parted and the road widened she realized what it was.

     In the clearing in front of her stood her mother’s house. Impossible, of course. Her mother’s house had been in a village, not the middle of a forest, and destroyed by dragonfire at that, but there it was, exactly as she remembered it: white plaster over the wattle and daub frame, plaster that she had spent many an hour in her youth patching up as punishment for some minor transgression; two small windows, no glass in them, of course, but with wooden shutters that kept out the worst of the wind and cold; herbs and flowers growing in window boxes, bursts of bright color and heady aroma. The memories wash over Vex in waves, so overwhelming that she almost doesn’t hear the voices coming from inside. 

     Slowly, her feet moving soundlessly over the earth, she approaches the door. It’s ajar, letting the sounds within float out over the ground, and Vex’s heart leaps to her throat as she hears her mother’s laugh for the first time since her father took her to Syngorn all those years ago. Hands trembling, she steps over the threshold into her childhood home.

     There, sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in her hands, her eyes crinkled and mouth wide in a smile, is Vex’s mother. She looks like how Vex remembers her: not exhausted, as she was after days of endless drudgery, or worried, as she was when she struggled to find the coin to feed two growing children, or heartbroken, as she was the day their father took them away. She looks warm, and happy, and so, so painfully alive. 

     Sitting next to her is Vax. His wounds are gone. Not just the ones that killed him, but the scrapes and scars accumulated over a lifetime of rough life and rougher work. Vex knows every one of her brother’s scars as well as she knows her own, but here they are all healed. His hair is clean and neatly braided, his clothes clean and simple. His face is soft in a way she hasn’t seen for a very long time, perhaps not since the day they returned to Byroden and found their home destroyed, and her breath catches at the open, uncomplicated joy in his expression. Without thinking, she steps forward, forgetting to take her usual care. A floorboard creaks beneath her foot, and Vax turns and sees her standing in the doorway.

     His eyes widen. The joy drains from his face, replaced by overwhelming horror. He stands abruptly, the chair clattering to the ground behind him. The room around them begins to dissolve, like a chalk drawing in rain, and when Vex blinks her mother is gone. The colors fade from the world as her brother stares at her, his chest heaving. 

     “What are you doing here?”

     She flinches at his voice. There’s shock, yes, and disbelief, but more than that, there’s anger. “Brother-”

     “You can’t be here.” He hasn’t moved towards her, and she can see his hands are shaking too. “You  _ can’t  _ be here. It’s too soon.” He takes a shaking breath. “It’s too  _ soon _ , dammit. You were supposed to  _ live _ .” And understanding flashes in Vex’s mind.

     She shakes her head. “I’m not dead,” she says, and Vax stills. “I’m not dead,” she repeats, her voice strengthening. “I’m in Vasselheim, with the others. We took you to Highbearer Vord, he did a ritual to send me here to find you-” 

     She’s cut off by her brother taking three steps forward and throwing his arms around her. “Thank the gods,” he says, his voice muffled by the furs around her shoulders. “I thought…” 

     “I know,” she says. She swallows hard, taking in her brother’s familiar warmth. “I know.”

     His grip tightens, then releases, and he pulls back to rest his hands on his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

     Vex smiles, and for the first time since watching her brother fall, she doesn’t feel as though she’s about to be torn in two. “I’m bringing you back, of course.”

     Vax hesitates. She watches it happen, the moment he starts to speak and then thinks better of it. His expression turns to the one he wears when he’s holding something back, something he doesn’t want her to know, and the truth creeps cold down the back of her neck. She steps back, out of her brother’s reach. 

     “You don’t want to come back,” she says. 

     Vax doesn’t close his eyes. She’s grateful for that, that he doesn’t look away, doesn’t dodge or misdirect. He looks her full in the face. “I’m tired,” he says. His joy is gone now, his face showing nothing but weariness. She caught a glimpse of it, in their conversation in her room in Greyskull Keep, mere hours before the world collapsed around them. 

     Vax just looks at her. “I’m tired,” he says again, simply, without artifice. “The dragons and the Vestiges and all that, it’s work that needs doing, I know. And you’ll all do it now that I’m gone. I have faith in you, but…” He sights, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m no hero, sister. This quest at the end of the world, it’s… bigger than me. Bigger than all of us, but I… I’m just a thief. Good with knives and lockpicks, but saving the world?” He shrugs. “You have the warriors and healers and casters you’ll need to see this through. If it had to be anyone… I’d rather it was me, here, than any of you.” He smiles faintly. “I’m ready to rest.”

     Vex looks away. She can feel the anger rising in her chest, burning up her throat. The warm pressure of Vord’s divine magic flutters for a moment, and the bottom drops out of her stomach until it surges back. She’s running out of time. It takes everything in her not to hurl the next words at her brother like one of his knives. “Is that why you tried to make that deal with the Raven Queen? Why you tried to get her to take you instead of me?”

     She looks back in time to see all the color drain from Vax’s face. “Who told you that?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

     “Percy,” she says. She’s shaking again, but it’s not from shock, or grief. It’s anger filling her now, anger at her stupid, self-sacrificing,  _ idiot _ of a brother. “He said he had experience making bad deals with ambiguous terms while in emotional distress, and that I should keep an eye on you, just in case.”

     Vax chuckles once. “Percy. Of course.” He rubs a hand over his eyes. 

     “How could you do that?” she snaps. “I would never have asked you to-”

     “To  _ what? _ ” He’s almost shouting now, his arms snapping out in front of him, palms out as if he’s inviting her to strike him. “To trade your life for mine? To  _ save _ you? To take care of you, like I’ve done our whole lives?”

     “To get yourself killed because of me!” Vex is shouting too, and without thinking she plants her hands on her brother’s chest and shoves. He staggers back a step, and she follows, getting right up in his face. “Did you even think what that would’ve done to me if it had worked? If I’d woken up and found out that you were- that I had to keep going without-” She cuts herself off, presses a hand to her mouth, squeezes her eyes closed in a vain attempt to contain the tears that have started leaking down her cheeks. 

     There’s a moment of silence as Vex pulls herself together. When she can look at Vax again, there are tears in his eyes, too.

     “I’m not coming back,” he says. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

     Vex snorts. “What, I’m not allowed to do exactly what you did?”

     “No,” he says, “because you’re right.” That makes her pause. She meets his gaze, and there’s a solemnity to him that she’s only seen a handful of times. “It was unfair of me, to do what I did. And if it had worked, you would have done the exact same thing, traded yourself for me, and we’d be locked in an endless circle of sacrifice after sacrifice for the rest of our lives.” He laughs, self-deprecating. “And gods know, we’d probably end up dragging everyone we know into it as collateral damage.” He swallows, then reaches out to cup her cheek. “So, no. I won’t let you throw your life away in exchange for mine, sister. I’m not coming back with you.”

     Vex leans into his touch for a moment, then steps back. “Alright,” she says. Relief blooms on Vax’s face for a second, before she plops down to sit cross-legged on the ground. “Then I’m staying.”

     Vax blinks. Looks down at her. Blinks again. “What?”

     Vex shrugs. “If you’re not going, then I’m staying. It’s not difficult to understand, honestly, brother.”

     “Well, I’m having some trouble understanding.” He drops to a knee in front of her, his voice gaining a warning edge. “So  _ explain it to me _ .”

     She sighs. In other circumstances, she might draw this out, play unconcerned and dance around the truth to wind him up, but. Well. This situation is sort of, literally, life-or-death. She’s not entirely without common sense. “You’re right about the whole-” she waves a hand- “circle of sacrifice thing. Bad idea, totally not worth it. So.” Vord’s magic is wavering in earnest now, her last link to the living world stretching thin, but she ignores it, smiling brightly at her brother. “If you won’t come back with me, I’ll just have to stay here with you.” 

     Vax gapes at her. “No.”

     She shrugs. “Why not?”

     “Why-” He sits on his ass with a thud, his usual grace completely gone. “Why  _ not? _ Because you’re not fucking  _ dead _ , that’s why not! You have a life, you have friends, you have  _ Trinket _ , for fuck’s sake, you have people who’d be destroyed if you died-”

     “And you don’t?” That shuts him up. “You think everyone’s just sunshine and rainbows about you kicking the bucket? Grog’s completely lost, Scanlan won’t smile, Pike’s blaming herself, Percy’s trying to do that stiff upper lip thing, and Keyleth-” She laughs, no humor in it. “Gods, I don’t even know what it’ll do to Keyleth if you die for good. And that’s just our party, what about our friends? Kash, and Zahra, and Kima, and Allura, they care about you, too. And Tiberius, wherever he is now. He’s still one of us, isn’t he? Can you imagine what it’ll do to him, to get a letter saying that this happened when he wasn't there? And Gilmore!” She throws her hands up now, building up a full head of steam. “Fucking hell, brother, if we have to go back to Whitestone and tell Gilmore you  _ died? _ ” Vax is crying silently now, but she presses on. He needs to hear this, she thinks, almost as much as she needs to say it. “Vax’ildan, you are my brother, but if you think for one second that you can just slip away into the afterlife with no one giving a shit-” She shakes her head. “No. You are loved, do you hear me? And if nothing else makes it through your thick skull,  _ I love you _ .

     So yes,” she says, rising to her feet. “I’m staying. We came into this world together, we’ll leave it together. And that’s that.” The divine energy is barely a flicker in her chest now. There are only moments left until Vex’s soul is lost. She looks down at her brother. His face is turned up at her, his expression unreadable. “Unless,” she says, her voice deliberately casual, “you’d like to make a different choice.” 

     In the afterlife, Vex holds out a hand to her dead brother. He looks at it, still sitting on the ground. Look back to her face. 

 

* * *

 

 

     In a small chamber in the Platinum Sanctuary, Vasselheim’s temple to Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon, god of goodness, protection, justice, and hope--

     Vax’ildan opens his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying I cried like four times writing this chapter, but I'm also not NOT saying that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised angst with a happy ending. Hopefully I'm as good as my word.
> 
> Spoilers through episode 44. Not compliant with episode 45.

“ Still the voices have stories to tell

Of the power struggles in heaven and hell

But we feel secure against such mighty dreams

As Orpheus sings of the promise tomorrow may bring”

-“Orpheus” by David Sylvian

 

* * *

 

 

     Two weeks later, Vex sits in a clearing in the forest outside of Whitestone. Vox Machina has returned for the day to meet up with Kima and Allura in what has become the hub of their resistance movement, such as it is, with Whitestone castle once again serving as the center point of a rebellion in the making. Vex has spent the day so far in conference with Kima, Allura, Cassandra, and the rest of the party in the newly restored Council chamber, exchanging information and piecing together reports from Emon, Westruun, and Vox Machina’s own experiences in the far north. It was a long, grueling session, the picture painted growing ever darker the more people talked, but Vex knew it was important work. Without these reports, they would be going against Thordak and the Conclave totally blind. She knew as well as anyone, a plan was only as good as the information used to make it.

     Still, the talk of gloom and doom had left them all feeling drained, so when Pike had suggested they venture outside the city in search of a spot for some friendly sparring and weapons practice, the rest of the party had eagerly followed. The sky is blue and clear, with some surreptitious assistance from Keyleth, and the sun is warm against Vex’s skin. She lays on her back in the grass, propping herself up on her elbows, her eyes closed and her face tilted towards the light. After the climate in the north, even Whitestone in early spring feels positively balmy. Pike and Grog are currently in the center of the clearing engaged in a mock duel, with Scanlan cheering on his “beautiful and beloved lady of war” on from a safe distance. She can hear all three of them laughing, and between that and the lack of impact noises, she gathers none of them are taking the bout too terribly seriously. Percy is seated several dozen feet away from her, putting up loud, if entirely unconvincing, protests as Keyleth attempts to weave a flower crown into his hair through a combination of braids, druidcrafting, and sheer stubbornness of will. Trinket, having found an early-bearing blueberry bush, is feasting enthusiastically on the edge of the clearing, chomping and slurping noises drifting through the peaceful atmosphere. 

     The warmth on Vex’s face vanishes suddenly as someone moves to stand in front of her, casting her into shadow. She smiles without opening her eyes. “Hello, brother,” she says.

     Vax sits next to her on the ground. She opens her eyes and sits up. Her brother is sitting cross legged, idly picking at the grass in front of him, watching Pike and Grog take playful swings at each other. “Hello, sister,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking in a faint half smile. 

     “How are you feeling?” She says it casually, to fit with the carefree attitude they are both currently affecting. An outside observer might believe the tone, and think the question nothing more than idle small talk, as innocent as a blithe comment on the weather. The twins know better.

     Vax doesn’t answer for a moment. Vex watches his eyes move over every member of the party, as though mentally taking roll, making sure they’re all in the same place as last he saw them. “Fine,” he says finally. “You?”

     Vex considers. “Better,” she says, honestly. And it’s true. The last two weeks have helped. They spent a few days in Vasselheim, ostensibly to gather supplies for the next leg of their journey, really to make sure that no unexpected side effects manifested from the twins’ jaunt in the afterlife. The journey to the Fire Ashari had made them all nervous, and seeing in person the destruction Thordak had wrought on the once proud people was a sobering experience. But upon their arrival in what had been Pyrah, they discovered that there were, indeed, survivors of the onslaught, who had left signs at the site of the massacre for those who could read them. These led the group to a cave under the mountain where they found nearly a score of Keyleth’s people, already making plans to rebuild their culture. At Keyleth’s request, they had gladly spent a week in the druids’ company, helping the reconstruction and beating back the low-level fire demons that continued to spill through the tear in the elemental plane. 

     They all stuck closer to Vax in those fights than they normally would. If he noticed, he made no mention of it.

     After that, it had been back to their home continent to begin their search for Grog’s old tribe, the current keepers of one of the Vestiges of Divergence. And when several days’ wandering around the wilderness had turned up no leads, Percy suggested returning to Whitestone to rest and catch up. In truth, Vex wonders if they all haven’t felt relieved at the chance to relax, even if only for a day. The threat of dragons hangs over all of them, but for the moment, they can ignore it in favor of enjoying each other’s company.

     Pulling herself from her thoughts, Vex turns to her brother. Vax is still watching the sparring, which has morphed from Pike vs. Grog to Pike and Keyleth vs. Grog, with Scanlan and Percy calling out suggestions of varying degrees of helpfulness. As the twins watch, Keyleth conjures a grasping vine and yanks Grog to his back on the earth, giving Pike the opportunity to climb onto his chest and begin rubbing pulled-up grass in his face. 

     Vax laughs out loud, and Vex’s chest fills with an indefinable warmth at the sound. It’s rusty, he hasn’t had much cause to laugh these past few weeks, but it’s the same laugh she remembers from when they were small and she kicked one of the village boys in the shin for pulling her braid. For a moment, Vex is so filled with relief and joy at having him by her side that she can’t speak. Vax catches her staring at him, and rolls his eyes. “I said I’m fine, didn’t I?” he says, reaching out and shoving her shoulder, just enough to rock her back a little. 

     She shoves him back. “Whatever, dick,” she says, but she’s smiling, and so is he. Trinket, apparently finished gorging himself, wanders over and settles down next to her, plopping his head into her lap with a contented sigh. She combs her fingers through his fur. “Are you really alright, though?” she asks. She keeps her eyes on Trinket, giving Vax time to formulate his response.

     They haven’t talked about what happened since he woke up on the altar. They stayed close to each other through the intervening days, instead allowing physical presence to say what words could not. Each night one of them woke in a cold sweat, the other was always within arm’s reach. Vex hasn’t asked him, but she thinks Vax’s nightmares are similar to hers: walking through a dark, featureless landscape, calling out for her twin and getting no response. Every time she woke up there was a moment of fear, a split-second where she forgot that the ritual had been successful and her mind was consumed again by dread and loss. Only the sight of her brother sleeping not three feet away could calm her, and even then only when she saw his chest rise and fall with steady breaths. The Highbearer’s divine magic had left no scars on Vax’s body, no physical evidence of what had happened, but Vex’s death had left no physical evidence, either. She knows, now, that physical scars were the kind that healed quickly. It was the other kinds that lingered.

     Vax is still, next to her in the grass. After a moment, Vex lifts Trinket’s head from her lap. She scoots over to press herself against her brother’s side, drops her head onto his shoulder.

     “Not really,” he says. His cheek rests against the top of her head. “But I think I will be.” 

     Vex smiles. Percy and Scanlan have joined in the fray with Pike and Keyleth, all four of them piled gracelessly on top of a whinging Grog. Next to her, Trinket begins to snore softly. In the forest, birds are chirping, the first signs of what looks to be a beautiful spring.

     “Yeah,” she says. “Me, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends my first multichapter fic. It's been fun, critters. See you on Thursdays.


End file.
